


In Deep

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, First Dates, First Time, Hand Jobs, Invisibility, M/M, Masturbation, Power Use During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: When Peter asks Martin to his houseboat for dinner, he means it to be a date. If only he'd thought to inform Martin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	In Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syrupwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/gifts).



> Thanks to libbertyjibbit for the beta!

Martin was early, but Peter didn’t really mind. It gave him a chance to observe Martin, as he checked his phone and sighed, tucking it back into his pocket to start into the dark water of the Thames. Really being quite lovely, deciding to wait out here in the cold, rather than intruding on Peter’s solitude before he was invited. But unnecessary in this case; Peter found he was rather excited.

“Can I take your coat?” Peter said to Martin’s back. An offer he had to make good on immediately when Martin jumped, grabbing for the back to keep Martin from tumbling into the water. Though perhaps he should’ve let him fall, enjoyed the novelty of warming Martin up, the excuse to get his clothes off without the bother of talking about it.

Perhaps another time. For now, he suspected dropping Martin into the river would only make him leave, so when Martin regained his footing, he took a step back and offered Martin his arm. Martin gave him a strange look, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why the houseboat? I thought, well…” His eyes drifted to the serviceable vessel, solid but nothing fancy.

“I find the privacy quite enjoyable. And I like being able to escape the city whenever I choose. It can all get to be too much, you understand.”

“Can’t you just—” Martin hugged himself tighter, shivering against the cold. His coat did seem a little thin, with a hole on one elbow. Peter would have to buy him a new one later. And for now, repress the urge to pull Martin against him. That was something better done in private, he was nearly certain. “Never mind. What was so important that I meet you here, instead of the Institute?”

Perhaps Peter hadn’t made himself clear enough. He’d certainly thought he’d told Martin it was an informal dinner meeting, where they could discuss topics of mutual interest. But as much as he disliked it, he supposed he probably should’ve been a bit more direct.

“I’d hoped we could spend some time together. Get to know each other a bit better, outside of work.” There, that should do, and while Martin’s smile still seemed a bit dubious, he did nod and even accepted the hand Peter offered him, to help him onto the boat.

It was unexpectedly distracting, holding Martin’s hand in his. Physical contact was something he tried to avoid when possible. Which in his line of work was nearly always. In general, he preferred to delegate such mattes to underlings like, well, like Martin. Though increasingly, he found himself thinking of Martin as something other than an underling. An equal? That seemed strange, and not quite right either.

“Peter.”

A squeeze of his hand, and the sudden loss of Martin’s warmth drew Peter out of his thoughts. Had Martin been speaking to him? How terribly rude he’d been, to ignore him. That definitely wouldn’t do, if he wanted Martin to regard him more favorably.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to having this much company. What were you saying?”

“If you don’t want company—” Martin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was just asking if we were meeting here to get away from prying eyes.”

“Yes,” Peter said, delighted Martin was now getting it. “A little privacy for the both of us.”

He opened the door for Martin, and waited for him to step inside. After one last dubious backward glance, Martin did just that, finally entering a small slice of Peter’s true domain.

With the door shut, Peter felt immediately more at ease. It wasn’t that his little home away from home was truly supernatural. Not in the way the Institute or Moorland House were, infused by centuries of ritualized terror. But his presence did give it that little bit of chill solitude he liked, that was so very absent from the Institute. A home away from his true home out at sea, and the best he was going to do for now.

It was strange, how little he was bothered by having Martin here. Normally he’d avoid anyone else’s presence inside, though a few—like Elias—had barged their way in from time to time. But even he much preferred meeting on his own turf, and Peter couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

“Did you make that?” Martin said, staring down at the neatly laid out dishes, with their food distributed neatly upon it.

“No. Does that bother you? I ordered it.” It was some sort of French steak thing. In truth, Peter hadn’t really paid attention, beyond knowing ordering something expensive was his best option. Cooking wasn’t really something you were taught, with an upbringing like his.

“From where? That doesn’t look like…” He laughed softly. “Right. Your family are loaded. Well, I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Martin gave the already pulled out a chair a quizzical look, but then shrugged and sat in it, scooting it towards the table and reaching hesitantly for a fork. Then he stopped, plucking the cloth napkin from under it and draping it cross his lap. The napkins had come with it, and been set up by the person who delivered it, just as Peter had ordered.

“Are you going to…” His eyes drifted to the other chair, then back to Peter.

“Oh.” He supposed it was a bit odd, wasn’t it, if he kept hovering. “Of course.” He sat down, and draped his own napkin across his lap, smiling at Martin expectantly.

For whatever reason, Martin proceeded to not eat. Instead, he looked around the room. Quite plain, of course. Peter had never been one for much interior decorating. Should he have done something about that, before inviting Martin here? There were certainly services for that as well, people who would come in and change the decor to whatever might be best for charming his handsome young assistant.

But that would be a thought for another time. For now, he’d have to hope the personal touch he did manage would be the key to Martin’s heart.

“Tea?” Peter asked, reaching for the rather charming teapot in the shape of a canal boat he’d had Martin obtain.

“Uh, sure?” After a moment’s hesitation, he nudged his cup towards Peter, who obligingly filled it. “I guess it does match your…decor?” His eyes fell on a ring buoy hung on one wall, next to an oil painting of a sailboat. Both items had been present when Peter purchased the boat.

“Sugar? Milk?” He gestured at the sugar bowl, in the shape of a squat tug boat, and the taller, slimmer milk pitcher shaped like a lighthouse.

“You really committed to the theme, didn’t you? Even though—” Martin laughed softly, and Peter’s hand tightened on his own thigh as his heart stuttered in response. “I think wine is more customary? But honestly, I’ve never really liked wine. Tea is better. I’ll have both. Thanks, Peter.”

“Brilliant,” Peter said. He must have guessed right about the tea, if it made Martin laugh. He dropped in a sugar cube and enough milk to make it swirl in the cup like a heavy fog, stirring it thrice before pushing it back towards Martin.

Martin took the cup in hand, and brought it slowly to his lips, taking a small sip as his eyes remained on Peter. Nervous? It seemed like it, from the way he kept staring. Or maybe that was simply a lingering effect of the Ceaseless Watcher. If so, its presence was unfortunately unavoidable. Though he hoped that at least Elias wasn’t watching personally; he didn’t really need the mockery. And anyway, this was private. Certainly even he could understand that.

“It’s good,” Martin said, setting the cup down. This time there was no hesitation as he reached for the fork, and began to cut into his steak. Though he again paused when he caught Peter watching him as he brought a bite to his mouth. “Are you going to…you know, join me? It’s just, it’s a bit awkward, having you stare?”

“Of course,” Peter said. Had he been staring? He supposed he had. Not really his usual habit, but there was something about Martin that made him want to look, and even stranger, to look long enough that Martin looked back. And even saw Peter, maybe smiled at him again, even if the smile was a little funny.

But if Martin wanted him to eat, then he’d do so. He could eat, and still enjoy the sighs of contentment, and the click of cutlery, and how the peace seemed more perfect than ever with Martin here.

* * *

“So…” Martin said, drawing the syllable out as he set the napkin on the table and nudged his plate aside. “What did you want to talk to me about that’s so secret?”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk. Or we don’t have to talk.” How did he make things proceed? He really wasn’t used to doing things like this. Maybe he should’ve steeled himself, and asked Elias. Or perhaps Simon, though Peter wasn’t sure Simon had quite as much interest in social niceties.

“Okay, then…should I go?”

“No!” Peter stood up abruptly, hand slapping down on the table.

Martin’s eyes widened, and he gave a quick look at the door. Checking for exits, oh dear. That wouldn’t do at all.

“No, that’s not—” He sucked in a steadying breath, and resisted the urge to fade. Disappearing would be the absolute worst thing to do, if he wanted to keep Martin here. At least, if he wanted him here somewhat willingly. “Why don’t I show you the rest of the boat?” He smiled and held out a hand.

Martin reached to take it, then hesitated. “Am I going to get lost, if I don’t take your hand?”

“What?” Peter thought back over what Martin said. “Oh no, it’s not—” Martin started pulling back, but before he could fully escape Peter’s grasp, he shot his hand out and took Martin’s. “Best to be safe?”

Martin stared down at their joined hands, and then his shoulders slumped. “If you think so. You’re the expert, right?”

The expert. It was enough to make Peter laugh, and want to vanish yet again. He still could. Martin wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t even be surprised, given how often Peter did it. And normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But for the first time in his life, well, he unfortunately might want something that did involve a few awkward conversations.

“Let’s go, then.” Peter gave Martin a cheery smile, and tugged him out of the room.

The tour unfortunately couldn’t last long, and Peter didn’t have much to say anyway. From Martin’s expression, he could tell he was quite bemused at the whole thing. But maybe that would help. If they both were lost and confused, then maybe they were closer to reaching the middle ground Peter was trying for.

And anyway, now was the perfect time to test that theory. Because they’d arrived at his bedroom.

His bed was covered in a plain blue duvet, and there was an equally plain lamp situated on the bedside table. A built-in wardrobe was the only other item that might be considered furniture in the room, and all in all, it didn’t prove much of a distraction. Or much to show Martin. Maybe better to get to the point anyway.

Peter sat on the bed, and smiled up at Martin, who was giving him a completely unmerited dubious look. Then Martin sighed, and Peter’s smile widened. Had he finally understood?

“Oh, just do whatever you’re going to do,” Martin said, eyes squeezed shut and hands curling into fists at his side.

That was more direct than Peter expected, but then, most things were direct by his standards. And in this case, Martin providing the push was completely in his favor. He levered himself back to his feet, and after giving Martin a once over again, settled on placing a hand on the back of his head, before bringing their mouths together.

Martin immediately stiffened, hands coming up to grip Peter’s bicep and his shoulder. But he didn’t push Peter away, which seemed like a good sign, and after a second his lips parted with a sigh, allowing Peter to deepen the kiss, fingers tightening in Martin’s hair. When he pulled back, Martin was rather pleasingly red, mouth open and eyes wide.

“That…” He coughed, and scrubbed a hand over his face, taking a shaky breath. “That wasn’t really what I expected? It’s definitely—” His voice went high, and he laughed softly. Maybe a bit hysterically? “Definitely better than what I expected. But weird? It was kind of weird, just, you know, out of nowhere?”

Peter blinked at him, struggling for how to explain. He thought he’d been quite clear. Luckily, Martin was quite sharp; it was one of the things Peter most admired about him. As the silence lengthened, he made a sudden noise of realization.

“It was a date. You—when you said you wanted privacy, that’s…that’s it, isn’t it? That was what all the wining and dining was about.” He laughed, and took a step back towards the door. That wouldn’t do at all.

“It was tea, not wine. You weren’t lying about not liking wine, right?” A note of uncertainty crept into his voice, and Martin shook his head.

“No, Peter. I don’t really like wine much. The tea was…it was nice. Weird, but nice.” His mouth worked, like he couldn’t really seem to find the words. Personally, Peter didn’t really think he needed any more words, but he’d monologued at Martin enough times by now that Martin probably deserved his chance to speak. “And the food was…it was also nice? But I don’t…” He laughed again, and look another step back. This time, Peter followed.

“So was it a good date?” The question sounded strange, coming from his lips. But he had to know, and perhaps reassure Martin before he fled. Not that he could truly flee. After all, he was Peter’s assistant, and they’d see each other at work. But he’d prefer not to miss out on a more intimate relationship if he could still…smooth things over. Somehow. “I’ll admit, this isn’t really an area I have a lot of experience with.”

“You…really?” Martin looked from him, to the bed, then back. “That…you know, that actually makes sense? Lonely and all.” His lips twisted up into a small smile.

“Exactly,” Peter said, relieved he again seemed to be getting it. “So now—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Martin was on him. Hands on his shoulders, propelling Peter back towards the bed. It was only through years of practice that Peter was able to stop himself from disappearing at the sudden onslaught of contact, Martin straddling him, hands in his hair now, mouth on his neck.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Martin murmured into his ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Yes,” Peter said. His voice had gone high and breathy now, how odd. Martin really was quite the experience. But one Peter was determined to have.

* * *

Unknown minutes later found them further sprawled upon the bed, both of them naked now, with Martin between his legs and smiling a rather satisfied smile. Not that Peter could blame him for his confidence. Perhaps he wasn’t the best judge, but everything that had happened so far only further reinforced his belief that Martin was uniquely talented in all ways. An assessment Martin only seemed more and more determined to live up to, as he wrapped hand around the base of Peter’s cock, and took it into his mouth.

“Oh,” Peter said. Not his most intelligent comment, but what else was he supposed to say, with those sinful lips locked around him? The picture made all the more lovely by the way Martin’s eyelids fluttered, how his cheeks hollowed in a movement that made Peter jerk into his mouth. And Martin took it beautifully, sucking in air through his nose and guiding Peter deeper, the heat and touch and oh, Martin’s lovely, too warm eyes, all too much for him to stand.

His fingers found Martin’s hair, tangling there as he tried to anchor himself. For once wanting to remain where he was, to keep the sharp edge of another person wanting and seeing and expecting things of him. Things he barely understood, beyond the purely intellectual, but somehow still wanted to give. Martin’s tongue—his clever, wonderful tongue—ran along the length of Peter’s cock, and then he swallowed. Only once, but it was already too much as he took Peter over the edge.

Peter lay there dazed, in a fog as his breathing came in gasps. Staring at Martin blearily, and trying to understand why he looked so shocked, and then suddenly annoyed. He sat back on his heels, and took his own cock in hand, stroking it slowly as he spoke.

“Peter, you ass. I can’t believe—” He shivered as he toyed with the head, rubbing his thumb along the underside. “No, I can believe it. Disappearing at the worst possible moment is exactly like you, isn’t it?” His teeth dug rather fetchingly into his lip as he gave his cock another stroke. “You don’t want a mess on your bed, then you can come back. Otherwise…”

He rubbed his thumb rather pointedly along the crown of his cock, and when Peter failed to reappear, he continued to bring himself off in earnest.

If Martin had intended that as a threat, he truly didn’t understandhow much Peter wanted this, even if he still didn’t quite understand. The idea of Martin leaving traces of himself behind…it should bother Peter, but it didn’t. Signs of life, signs of presence that he’d never wanted until now. And he ached to touch Martin, to hold him to his chest and run his fingers over Martin’s skin. But it was too much. Maybe next time. For now…

Moving in the Lonely was sometimes strange, particularly this close to reality. Martin was far enough from the foot of the bed that Peter was able to settle awkwardly behind him. On his knees, which wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t exactly move Martin like this, and Martin couldn’t truly lean on him, so it’d have to do. What he could do was reach around him and run ghostly hands over his chest, lingering over one nipple which he rubbed and tugged at, drawing a startled gasp from Martin’s lips.

“I—” He turned around, but of course he couldn’t see Peter. Or he shouldn’t be able to, at least. Though his eyes pinned Peter’s face with surprising accuracy. “Is that you, Peter? That’s, well, it’s a bit weird. But…” He pursed his lips, and took a shaky breath. “Don’t stop.”

Oh, how wonderful, how precious his Martin was. Peter laughed, breath ghosting across the back of Martin’s neck, and delighted in his shiver of response. With one hand, he continued to toy with Martin’s nipples, to run over his skin, delighting the twitches of muscle and the prickle of gooseflesh. And with his other, he found the daring to join Martin in stroking his cock, at first lightly, then firmer, drawing a surprised gasp from Martin’s lips.

“Fuck, that’s actually…” He laughed softly. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, when he hadn’t laughed much in all the time Peter had known him. “That’s actually pretty nice?” He tightened his own grip, harder than Peter liked himself, but he was happy to mirror Martin’s preferences here.

He didn’t usually touch people, well, at all, but particularly when he’d pulled himself from the world. It was strange, realizing he could detect traces of the warmth from Martin’s body, and stranger still the thrumming of blood throughout his body. The beating of his heart seemed to echo loudly in Peter’s ears, and as Martin grew closer and closer, angling his body back unconsciously, Peter found himself also leaning closer. Longing to touch him, and unable to close the gap.

“Peter,” Martin said, the word drawn pained and long from his lips as he spurted onto the duvet.

A complete mess, but one he disregarded as he stroked himself through the aftershocks. And then he turned, more quickly than Peter would’ve thought possible in the afterglow of arousal, reaching out to tangle his fingers in Peter’s suddenly far more substantial hair. Dragging their faces close, with a small smile Peter couldn’t quite understand on his lips.

“How was it?” Peter asked, rather breathlessly. Had Martin brought him here? Or had he drawn himself back, to feel that ghost of heat on his lips grow hotter once again.

“Bit weird,” Martin said. He leaned in, kissing Peter sweetly before drawing back. “Might need to try again?”

Peter realized he was smiling, and even more strangely, that he did want to try again. To hold Martin through it all, and maybe longer.

“Practice makes perfect, I’ve always said. We’ll be a true dynamic duo yet.”


End file.
